


Blood Secrets

by Sabene4511



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Brief suicidal thoughts, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Jack Swears, Season 2 AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-21 12:18:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17642660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sabene4511/pseuds/Sabene4511
Summary: Mac is badly injured on a mission and Jack learns a secret his partner has been hiding.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place during Season 2.

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**Chapter 1**

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Everything happens so fast, as usual. Getting in is easy. Mac rigging the remote hideout to blow is easy. Downloading the database is easy. But as soon as Mac unplugs the flash drive Riley had devised, all hell breaks loose. Alarms go off everywhere. Guards seem to be coming out of the woodwork.

 

“Where the hell are they coming from?!” Jack yells to no one in particular.

 

“It won’t matter if you don’t get yourselves out of there in the next 5 minutes. Before the building explodes,” Matty responds sharply.

 

Mac’s response is a little more helpful. “We need to get to the end of this corridor and make a right, Jack. The exit is off that hallway.”

 

Out of the corner of his eye, Jack watches his partner put the flashdrive in the front pocket of his jeans.

 

“Alright let’s go, brother!” Jack says, as he pulls open the next door and takes out two more guards. After several tense minutes, they burst through the exit door into the bright sunshine.

 

“We need to get to those trees to be completely out of the blast range,” Mac states.

 

“Nothing to do but run for it then.”

 

“You have less than 2 minutes, guys.” Jack hears Matty say in his ear.

 

Mac and Jack start to run for the tree line 40 feet away when gunfire sounds above them. Jack spins around and takes down the guard on the roof and turns to start running again when his heart freezes in his chest. Mac is down, not moving.

 

“Mac? MAC!” Jack drops next to his friend before deciding he doesn’t have time. If he doesn’t move him, they’re going to die. He grabs Mac and slings him over his shoulder and heads for the trees as fast as he can. He’s only a few feet away when the building goes up. He stumbles, but manages to keep his feet and move into the cover of the trees.

 

Matty’s voice sounds in his ear again. “You guys okay?”

 

“NO!” Jack yells. “Mac is hit. How long till exfil gets here?”

 

“30 minutes. How bad is it?”

 

“I don’t know yet. Hang on.”

 

Jack has Mac on the ground and is checking for a pulse. He sighs with relief when he finds one and looks for the offending wounds, trying to rouse him.

 

“Mac? Can you hear me buddy? I need you to wake up, man. Mac!”

 

He finds the wound. The bullet went through the fabric at the very top of the vest. Mac must have turned to look, just like he had. Removing the vest and opening Mac’s shirt he curses at what he sees.

 

“Matty, you need to get exfil here faster. Mac doesn’t have 30 minutes. The bullet is awfully close to his heart and his pulse is starting to get weaker already. I...I think his chest is filling with blood.”

 

“Jack, I told exfil to expedite but it’ll still take almost 20 minutes.”

 

Jack is trying hard not to panic as he says “He probably has less than 10.”

 

Seconds tick by like hours as Jack gazes down at his _way-too-young_ friend. “You gotta hang in there, Mac. Please. I can’t lose you.” Tears sting his eyes as he pushes a stray lock of hair from Mac’s forehead.

 

“Jack.” Matty sounds strained and far more hesitant than he has ever heard her sound. “There is a way to save him, but you’re going to have to trust me _completely_ and do exactly as I say, without question.”

 

Jack doesn’t even pause. “What do I do?”

 

“You need to understand the risk, Jack. If anything goes wrong, you will die in the next few minutes.”

 

“You mean Mac will.” Jack chokes on the words.

 

“No Jack. You will. Mac will kill you and he won’t even realize it until he wakes up.”

 

He still doesn’t even think about it. “Losing him would kill me anyway. What do I do?”

 

“If this works, he’s going to be furious with me for telling you and furious with you for doing it, but here goes. Take off his belt. Use it to restrain his hands behind his back as tightly as you can. It’s better to cut off circulation for a few minutes than risk him getting loose.”

 

Though already confused, Jack does as he’s told.

 

“Lay him on his back, on top of his hands. You’re going to have to sit on top of him. One knee by each of his shoulders. Use your legs to keep his arms pinned at his sides. Remove the leather cuff from your left wrist.”

 

Even more confused, he obeys. He’ll do whatever he has to no matter how strange or dangerous, if it means Mac will make it home alive. “What next?”

 

“I’m going to tell you the last few steps, but don’t do anything until I finish because it will have to be done fast.”

 

“Understood.”

 

He can hear Matty take a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “You are going to take out your knife and cut your left wrist. Not across the wrist but upwards, toward your elbow, about 2 inches long. The cut needs to be deep enough to bleed freely, but not so deep that it causes nerve damage. Then open his mouth and put the cut to it.”

 

“Wait, I’m _feeding_ him my blood?!”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Matty, I’m no doctor, but I don’t think that’s how blood transfusions work.”

 

Another deep breath, “It is for a vampire.”

 

Jack sits in stunned silence for several seconds before anger boils out of him. “Really! This is not the time for jokes! Mac is dying!”

 

“It’s not a joke. It’s actually a blood disorder, but that’s the medical term for his condition. Understand, as soon as your blood hits his tongue, he is going to fight you and try to throw you off of him. You _must not_ let him. What he’ll actually be trying to do is get hold of your arm to keep it there. If he succeeds, he will not let go and he will not stop drinking until you’re dead.”

 

Jack scrunches his face in confused disbelief. “Can’t I just pull my arm away?”

 

“He is way too strong for you to do that Jack, especially when his body is desperate. This is how his mother died. There was no illness or accident. That’s a lie that was manufactured to protect him from prejudice in the community. She tried to do what you’re about to do and he killed her. He was only 5 years old and she wasn’t strong enough to pull her arm away. It was an accident, but it nearly destroyed him. He hasn’t drunk from a living person since. If he kills you now, it will shatter him and there won’t be any putting him back together. For both of your sakes, you _cannot_ let him get a hold of you.”

 

“You’re serious?”

 

“Yes, and you’re running out of time.”

 

Jack quickly checks Mac’s pulse again, she’s right. His heart is struggling. Jack pulls out his knife, pausing long enough to say “I trust you, Mac.” Then he digs the knife into his wrist.

 

Jack hisses in pain as blood begins to flow. Shoving the knife back into its sheath, he puts his right hand on the ground above Mac’s head and braces himself as steadily as possible. He puts the bleeding wound to Mac’s mouth and in seconds, Mac’s eyes snap open and he tries to buck Jack off him, straining to free his hands. Jack fights to hold his ground, startled when he looks at his best friends eyes.

 

“The white part of his eyes have turned red!”

 

“Ignore it, it’s normal. As soon as you start feeling dizzy, light headed or nauseated, you need to pull your arm away. You don’t need to give him enough to heal him. Just enough to buy him some time for exfil to arrive. Plus, you need to have the strength to protect him if any of the guards made it out before the building exploded.”

 

“Copy.”

 

Mac is still fighting and Jack suddenly realizes his head is swimming. He pulls his wrist back and Mac goes nuts. Jack has to brace both hands on Mac’s shoulders to hold him. Slowly, Mac calms, his eyes looking less frantic, though still red.

 

“Okay, I think he’s coming around.”

 

“Take a small amount of his blood on your finger and wipe it on the cut on your wrist. Just a heads up, it’s going to burn.”

 

“It won’t turn me?”

 

“Infect, and no. It’s not nearly enough.”

 

It feels creepy dipping his finger into Mac’s blood, but Jack shrugs it off as he realizes it’s not the strangest thing he’s done in the last few minutes. Just as he spreads the blood over his wrist, he hears a soft voice below him.

 

“J-Jack?”

 

The response he plans to give his partner is cut off by a searing pain, like someone has placed a red hot poker on his wrist.

 

“Aaaaaaahh! Hooooooly shit! That fucking hurts! God dammit!!”

 

The pain stops as quickly as it started. And Jack huffs out several ragged breaths and looks at his wrist. The cut is scabbed over and half healed. His attention returns to Mac as he hears the blonde speak again.

 

“What did you do?”

 

“Mac? Hey buddy! How’re you feeling?”

 

Mac licks his lips and Jack realizes some of his blood is still there. Mac’s eyes go wide in shock and he starts screaming, “What the hell did you do?!”

 

“I’m not entirely sure, but I think I just saved your life!”

 

“Get off me, Jack! Get off!” Mac has started struggling again, trying to get loose.

 

“It’s okay, Jack. You can let him go.” Jack has almost forgotten Matty is listening. “Mac, you have to calm down so Jack can untie your hands.”

 

Mac freezes as he hears Matty’s voice. “Matty...you didn’t. Please, please, tell me you didn’t.”

 

“I didn’t have a choice, Mac. You wouldn’t have survived until exfil arrived.”

 

“No!! You had no right!” Jack finishes untying his hands and Mac immediately scrambles away from him, standing and backing several feet away against a large maple tree. “You had no right! You had no right!” He repeats it over and over, getting quieter each time as he slides down the tree to sit at its base.

 

Jack slowly approaches Mac, not wanting to anger him more. “Mac?”

 

“How could you?” Mac says quietly.

 

“Me?”

 

“Yes you. How could you do that?”

 

“How could I what? Save you?”

 

“Risk your life!”

 

“I risk my life every day, Mac. For this job, for this country, occasionally for the world, but above all else, for you! There’s nothing in the whole damn world I wouldn’t do for you, Mac! I would lie cheat, steal, beg, torture, take a bullet, kill, or die for you, man! Most of which I have _already_ done at least once! A little bit of blood? Bud, that ain’t nothing!”

 

Jack looks down at the stunned look on his partner’s face and takes a slow breath to calm himself. He squats in front of Mac, putting a hand on his shoulder.

 

“Tell me you know that. Tell me you know you don’t have to hide _anything_ from me, Mac.”

 

Mac looks down, and Jack simply waits for him to speak. “It’s not that I didn’t want you to know. It’s that I never wanted you to do what you just did. Never.”

 

Mac is still staring at his knees, which he is now starting to wrap his arms around, closing himself off.

 

“No no, no you don’t, Mac. None of that.” Jack slides up next to him and puts his left arm around his shoulders, holding firm when Mac tries to move away again. “Nice try. Come here, brother.”

 

Jack pulls him closer, resting his cheek against blonde hair. Mac still seems stunned, hesitant.

 

“How? How can you...I just _drank your blood_ , Jack!”

 

Jack chuckles. “Not gonna lie, that was weird.” Even Mac laughs softly at that. “But if you’re asking why I’m not afraid of you or some stupid bullshit like that, I’m just gonna roll my eyes at you, kid. You could grow 3 extra heads, sprout wings, and start breathing fire and I’d still be here for you. Nothing’s ever gonna change that. At some point, you _are_ going to have to walk me through the whole list of ‘truth vs. Hollywood,’ like how the whole sunlight thing is clearly bogus. But for now, I’m just beyond glad you ain’t dead.”

 

He feels Mac release a trembling breath and relax into him as they both begin to hear the faint _thump, thump, thump_ of a chopper approaching.

 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


	2. Chapter 2

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**Chapter 2**

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Mac is taken into immediate surgery to remove the bullet by Dr. Lewis, who meets the helicopter on the roof. Jack had always wondered why she seems to be the only doctor to take care of Mac when he’s _really_ hurt. Looks like that mystery may finally have been solved. Jack sits in the waiting room staring at his wrist. The scab has already fallen off.

 

“How are you?”

 

He bolts from his seat and takes a startled step away, fists raised instinctively for a fight. “Geez, Matty. I didn’t even hear you come in! I can’t believe I let you sneak up on me.”

 

She nods. “I’m pretty sure you have a lot on your mind right now.”

 

Jack sits back down, slowly shaking his head. “I just can’t believe I didn’t know. I didn’t even suspect...anything! I’m thinking back on all the times he got hurt, wondering how I never noticed anything strange. Though, I suppose this is why he has such a high pain tolerance...hmm...and why sedatives and pain-killers don’t work well on him?”

 

Matty smiles “We shouldn’t talk about this here. The two of us and Dr. Lewis are the only ones in Phoenix who know. This is one of the most critically classified things you’ve ever been read in on. At least on a personal level, his life has _never_ been more in your hands.”

 

He nods absently as she turns to leave before she stops, remembering something.

 

“And don’t tell him I told you about his mother unless you have to. It will only upset him even more.”

 

He nods again and leans back to wait for news on his partner.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Dr. Lewis keeps Mac in medical for 3 days before allowing Jack to take him home. As always, Jack stays by Mac’s bed, sleeping in the chair, talking to him, picking on him and gently running his fingers through Mac’s hair to comfort him when Dr. Lewis changes the bandage on the quickly healing wound. As Matty advised, he doesn’t talk about what happened, but Mac keeps shooting him confused glances when he thinks he isn’t looking.

 

When she finally clears him to leave, Dr. Lewis prescribes the normal pain meds and antibiotics she would to anyone who was shot and Jack fills the prescriptions with the lovely nurse up front while Mac changes his clothes.

 

The ride to Mac’s house is quiet, until Jack can’t take it anymore, “So, do you actually need these pills?”

 

“No, not really. Sometimes the pain meds help a little, but my body burns them off too fast to really be effective. Janet only gives them to me because if she doesn’t, people may get suspicious, or at least ask questions that are difficult to answer, especially around people that are trained to spot a lie. I flush the pills or throw them away whenever I’m _supposed_ to take them. But they won’t hurt me if you or Bozer get _insistent_ about me taking them right in front of you.”

 

Mac looks at him out of the corner of his eye again and Jack shakes his head, “Man, you really need to stop looking at me like I’m about to bolt any second.”

 

“How is this _not_ freaking you out?”

 

“First and foremost, because it’s you, Mac. You’re the same person I knew last week, a man I trust with my life. My best friend, my little brother, nothing I _ever_ learn about you changes that. Second, I don’t really even understand what’s going on. I mean, Matty said vampire, but she also said it’s a blood disorder. It almost sounds like they just got lazy naming it.”

 

“I’m called a vampire because I need blood from other humans to survive and drinking it is a viable way for me to get it. There are other elements that kind of fit too, but that’s the main reason.”

 

They pull up to Mac’s house and Jack shuts off the engine. Mac suddenly looks nervous as he says, “Are you coming in?”

 

“Did you seriously ask me that after what I _just_ said to you? Look at me,” Jack leans right in close to Mac, “You paying attention? Cuz this is the third time in a week I’ve had to lay this out for you, and the third time better be the damn charm!”

 

Mac looks right into Jack’s eyes, searching for who-knows-what.

 

“I’m not leaving you. EVER. Not by choice and not without a hell of a fight. I go where you go, remember? Even if it’s down the rabbit hole into bizarro world. I promise you, brother, I will help you paint the white roses red.”

 

Mac seems satisfied with whatever he sees, but quietly says, “Promise me something else.” Jack just raises his eyebrows in question. “Never risk doing that again.”

 

Jack releases an exaggerated sigh. “How about this, we go inside and order pizza for lunch? You and I can sit down and you can explain the reality of all this to me. Then I will _think_ about making that promise. Deal?”

 

Mac huffs out a breath and shakes his head, then shrugs. “Okay. Fair enough. Except I’m going to take a shower while we’re waiting for the pizza. Then we eat, then we talk.”

 

Jack chuckles, “Deal.”

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Lunch is quiet and a little tense. Both men are relieved when the food is cleared away and they sit back down on the couch, turned to face each other. Jack is the first to speak.

 

“All right, let’s dive into this. Just remember, I’m not a doctor, so no nine syllable words, kay?”

 

Mac laughs lightly. “I’ll try to keep the technical stuff as simple as possible, but I will have to get into it a little.” Mac lets out a deep breath. “I guess the best way to start is to tell you that this disease is very, very rare. So there is _a lot_ we don’t know about it. Your wrist for example. We _sort of_ know how wounds heal in _my_ body, but how does a small amount of my blood heal a cut like that on _you_ ? And why does it _burn_ so badly? We have no idea.

 

“We also don’t know what causes it. In many ways, it acts like a virus, so that’s what we tend to call it. The problem is, you can see a virus under a microscope -how big it is, it’s shape, it’s features. We can’t even find this. So we don’t actually know that it’s a virus. It might be bacteria or a parasite. It could also be purely genetic. There is _some_ evidence that there’s at least a genetic component, even if it’s just an immunity or susceptibility. But, for lack of a better term, I’m going to call it a virus.

 

“It’s easier to see the effects of it. Matty called it a blood disorder and she’s partially correct. It’s actually a lot more than that, but it does cause a type of anemia, which is a reduction of healthy red blood cells. The job of red blood cells is to carry oxygen from the lungs to the rest of the body. When your kidneys detect a low blood oxygen level, they release a hormone called EPO. That hormone tells your bone marrow to make more red blood cells. You with me so far?”

 

“Yeah, but you’re startin’ to make my brain hurt.”

 

Mac chuckles, “I’m almost done with the biology lesson, I promise. Anyway, it’s that hormone that this virus seems to effect. We don’t know if it’s preventing my kidneys from releasing it in the first place or somehow destroying it afterward. But either way, my body produces almost no red blood cells. I have to get them from someone else.”

 

“Hence, drinking blood.”

 

“Yes. I can also get it through an IV, but that’s a lot slower. I’m not laying in a bed in medical with a needle in my arm for 10-15 minutes when I can drink it in less than one.”

 

“Okay, but how does _that_ work? Most people who swallow too much blood get sick, right? You obviously don’t.”

 

“What makes people feel nauseated is the way stomach acid reacts to blood, but in me it’s entirely absorbed in my mouth and throat and never reaches my stomach.”

 

“Huh?”

 

“Yeah. There are other things that this virus does. It can be summed up by saying that it makes my body far more efficient in pretty much every way. Even in _normal_ people, digestion starts in the mouth when you chew. Your mouth even starts absorbing nutrients from food. That’s why some medications or illicit drugs can be taken by liquid drops under the tongue. My body just absorbs more and faster.

 

“It also makes better use of what I eat. Normally, there’s a limit to how much of a nutrient the human body can take in. The rest is wasted and leaves your body when you use the bathroom. My body can hold onto and use more. Less is wasted. That’s why I don’t eat as much as you and Bozer think I should. Same thing with sleep. My body makes more efficient use of energy and periods of rest. So I only need to sleep 3-4 hours a night and I’m fine. Whereas most people need 7-9 hours.”

 

“That’s pretty cool...though now I feel kind of bad for hounding you to eat and sleep more. What other super-powers you got? Can you pick a car up over your head or something?” Jack asks with a grin.

 

Mac laughs. “No. Nothing that extreme. I’m only about twice as strong as I should be for my build and muscle mass, it’s not magic. My body just makes better use of energy, as well as oxygen, and it has more to use since my lungs are also more efficient. Your lungs only absorb about 25% of the oxygen you inhale. My lungs take in closer to 40%. So my muscles have more fuel for strength and they don’t get tired easily for the same reason, energy and oxygen.”

 

“Wait, wait, wait. That’s bullshit! I’ve seen you run distance and I’ve seen you in the gym, man. You get tired like everybody else and you can’t lift twice as much weight as you should.”

 

Mac is already smiling and shaking his head before Jack is halfway through.

 

“Don’t shake your head at me, I’ve seen it with my own eyes!”

 

“I learned real quick and real young, Jack, that if I don’t _act_ winded and tired, people will look at me funny. I remember the first time it happened, I was six and we had to run laps in gym class. Everyone else was panting at the end, laying in the grass trying to catch their breath and I was just standing there like I hadn’t even moved. Even the teacher gave me a weird look. It was the first time I felt really _other_. As for the weights? I know what I can actually lift. I just cut it in half and act like I’m struggling when I’m not alone.”

 

“Well, shit. That means you’re actually stronger than me?” Mac flinches and looks at him apologetically. “Wait, you’ve been going easy on me when we spar!”

 

Mac now looks truly contrite. “I’m sorry. I don’t want t -” Mac freezes halfway through the sentence and claps a hand to his mouth.

 

It’s Jack’s turn to flinch. “You don’t want to hurt me.”

 

Mac closes his eyes and groans out a breath. “Jack...I…”

 

“Nope, don’t even. You know what? I’m trying real hard to be annoyed that you’ve been treating me with kid gloves,” he starts laughing, “but this is too damn cool!”

 

Mac looks up apparently relieved that he hasn’t completely offended the Delta and starts to chuckle along with him.

 

When Jack continues, it’s with a little more seriousness. “You realize, the next time we spar? It’s on, man. I’ll make sure no one else is around, and we’re both gonna stop holding back so much.”

 

Mac sighs and looks at him. “It won’t do any good to argue with you, will it?”

 

“No good what-so-ever. What else you got? Oooo, wait, is this thing the reason your big ole brain is so big?”

 

Mac laughs again. “You truly have a unique way of phrasing things, you know that?”

 

Jack grins. “Just part of my charm. So, is it?”

 

Mac makes a face that says ‘sort of’. “That’s really hard to say for sure. There’s so much we don’t know about the human brain under _normal_ circumstances. To try to say how much this virus effects it or in what way would be nearly impossible. Though it does seem clear that it substantially improves memory and memory recall.”

 

Jack’s face lights up. “What about fangs?! Tell me you get to have fangs, man.”

 

Mac just rolls his eyes. “No, Jack. Sorry to disappoint you, but no fangs. Though that myth does actually have a history we can trace.”

 

“Wait. What?”

 

“Unfortunately, yes. A couple hundred years ago, someone with this disease decided to _really_ embrace it. Of course back then there were no IV blood transfusions. So, they had to kill to survive. Most were hermits and nomads, but this guy decided to start a cult. He filed a couple of his teeth into points so he didn’t have to carry a weapon, and some of his followers followed suit. The cult initiation was to attempt infection. If you were _worthy_ you would be infected and saved. If you were not worthy, you died.”

 

“How did he actually decide who was infected?”

 

“He didn’t, the virus does. It’ll be easier for me to explain if I use you and me as an example.”

 

“Go for it.”

 

“In order for me to infect you, I would need to drink your blood until your heart stops. Then I’d have to feed you a roughly equal amount from me.”

 

“Sounds simple enough.”

 

“Here’s the tricky part. My blood acts sort of like a defibrillator to your system, jump starting your heart again. However, just like a defibrillator, it doesn’t always work. The heart won’t start again. Usually in autopsy, they can tell why a defibrillator didn’t work, not so with this disease. They have yet to find a common thread. I told you earlier that there might be a genetic component, something in my DNA that allowed me to be infected or that prevented infection in someone else.

 

“But it doesn’t have to be genetic. It could be environmental. Maybe it’s because I ate a banana less than an hour before and the extra potassium allowed the virus to take hold. Or maybe it was the flowers in the backyard I was playing in or something in the laundry detergent my clothes were washed in. We don’t know.

 

“When I was infected, my mother spent _hours_ being interviewed by the CDC. They wanted to know everything I ate, drank, or came in contact with. Every person I came in contact with. They spent over a week doing an exhaustive inventory of our house. They took samples of every chemical, every capet, the furniture upholstery, curtains, _everything_. The only thing we know for sure is the survival rate: 51% of people survive and are infected, 49% of people die.”

 

Jack whistles. “That’s one hell of a coin toss, brother.” He takes a deep breath. “Okay, I’m not really sure I want the answer to this next question.” Mac just waits quietly while Jack works up his nerve. “What um...what about long-term? Is...is it…”

 

He can’t finish, but Mac gets the jist. “Is it terminal?” Jack swallows hard and gives a curt nod. “No. Not as long as I can get the blood I need.” Jack visibly relaxes. “As for life expectancy, we have no idea. There’s one other major effect of this virus’s ability to create biological efficiency -agelessness.”

 

“Agelessness? Hold on, you were just talking about your mom being there and learning to act _normal_ when you were six. Which means you were infected when you were really little. Clearly, you’ve aged since then. Hell, you’ve physically aged since _I_ met you.”

 

“I was 3 when I was infected and I’ve aged pretty much normally since then, but I’ll stop aging soon, if I haven’t already. The virus guides the body to peak efficiency, but it doesn’t happen overnight. Each person reaches their physical peak somewhere around age 30. Their body has stopped improving, growing and getting stronger, but before it begins declining toward old age. It’s that plateau where this virus holds us frozen in time.”

 

Jack stares at Mac for a few seconds, processing what he’s just been told. “Wait...so...you’re gonna be 30 _forever_?”

 

“Theoretically.”

 

Jack’s eyes bug. “How?”

 

“Physical aging and decline are caused by a lot of different things, but it really boils down to cellular fatigue. The cells in your body replicate themselves over and over and over again throughout your lifetime. Well, after 30 years or so, they start getting tired. They start replicating slower and making mistakes. That’s what causes metabolism to start slowing down in your thirties. It causes wrinkles, balding, arthritis, osteoporosis, declining vision and hearing. It causes many of the mental issues of old age too -forgetfulness, confusion, dementia, Alzheimer’s. All of it. Eventually, the cells make enough mistakes that organs begin failing, and death is the result. With the efficiency of this virus, my cells won’t get tired.”

 

“What about someone like me? I’m already passed 30. Will it just...not work.”

 

Mac chuckles. “Oh you’re gonna love this. No. You would have the same coin toss as anyone else, and _if_ you survive, your cells would begin to guide your body’s to its most efficient state.”

 

“In English, Mac.”

 

“You’re 43, so it would take about 13 years, but day by day, you would age _backwards_ until your body was about 30 years old again. Then it would stay there.”

 

Jack cracks up laughing. “Woo hoo hoo! Damn! Where do I sign up, brother! Let’s do this!”

 

The expression on Mac’s face seems a cross between terror and anger. “That’s never going to happen. I will _not_ do this to you.”

 

Mac is off the couch and pacing the floor by the time Jack really registers that he moved. Then he notices that Mac is shaking and the laughter dies in his throat as Mac’s words filter into his mind. Clearly there’s something Mac hasn’t told him yet and he’s immediately sorry. He gets up and intercepts Mac on his next turn, gently putting his hands on the younger man’s shoulders.

 

“Hey, hey. Mac, I’m sorry. I got carried away, that’s all. I’m sorry. I just...everything about this you’ve told me just sounds pretty awesome.”

 

“There are down-sides, Jack.”

 

“Okay, then let’s talk about those.”

 

He guides Mac to the couch and they sit back down. Jack makes sure to sit close enough that he can touch Mac if he needs to. He has no idea what Mac’s going to tell him, but he wants to be able to offer comfort. Mac doesn’t look at him, talking to his hands folded in his lap instead.

 

“You don’t really understand what this is like, Jack. You can’t. I live in constant fear that someone...the _wrong_ someone...is going to find out about me, and they’ll either kill me as some kind of freak or monster -or worse, I’ll be locked in a cage in some lab for the rest of my existence while they try to figure out what makes me tick.”

 

“That’s never gonna happen, buddy. Not while I’m around.”

 

“There’s more.” Mac takes a slow deep breath. “What am I going to do, Jack? Twenty years from now, what am I going to do? When I’m almost 50 years old and I still look 30? I won’t be able to stay here, if I can even stay _that_ long. I’ll have to leave Phoenix, probably California, maybe the country. Start over somewhere with a new identity. And I’ll have to _keep_ moving every 10-15 years when people start to notice. What kind of life is that? _Never_ being able to settle.

 

“What about a family? Do I drag my wife around with me every 10 years hoping she doesn’t become the angry _ex_ -wife who sells my blood to the highest bidder -or do I not tell her I’m sick, then leave her and fake my death? What about kids? Do I abandon them like my father did to me? Hell, what if there’s a chance they could be born with this disease? Can I risk condemning a child to this?”

 

Jack lets him rant, knowing he doesn’t have the answers. His heart breaks as Mac continues.

 

“Or do I forget _all_ of that and just become a hermit living in a cabin in the woods so no one even sees me to notice I’m not aging? And no matter _where_ I go, what am I going to do about blood? It’s not like I can walk into some random hospital and ask for a pint a week. Or do I become the monster? Killing to survive?

 

“Then there’s the _extra awesome_ part. You, Bozer, Riley, Matty, anyone and everyone I care about, anyone I _ever_ let in, I get to watch you all grow old and die, while I’m left behind to mourn.”

 

Tears are leaking down Mac’s face that he doesn’t seem to notice. “You asked the long-term effects of this disease and I told you we have no idea. The truth is, none of us live long enough to test it. There are the occasional accidents and homicides of course, but most of us die from lack of blood or by suicide. And I get it, Jack. I do. I understand why most of us take that way out. I’m facing a potential _eternity_ of fear and struggle, and I’m facing it _alone_!”

 

“Stop. Stop right there, buddy. Don’t be talking like that. You are a smart man, Mac. The smartest man I’ve ever met. If anybody can figure all that shit out it’s you. Right now, you’re looking at it all at once. That would overwhelm anyone, but that’s not how life works. You will face each challenge, _one at a time,_ as it comes and you _won’t_ have to do it alone.

 

“We both know Matty will help you as long as she can. 15 or 20 years from now when you have to leave, she can get you set up with a new identity and probably another blood source wherever you decide to go. She’ll also be in a position to select someone to take her place that you can trust when she retires -maybe even give you an entire network of contacts. Bozer, Riley and I are gonna be there for you, too.

 

“You are _not_ alone, brother, and you never will be. You have a huge heart Mac, and people love you. There will _always_ be people willing to help you. Will there be some risk in telling people? Of course there will, but you’ll manage. If you burn through an alias a little faster cuz the wrong person finds out, so what? It’ll suck for a couple months, but _you’ll manage_. Okay?”

 

Mac’s responding smile is still a little sad, but much more relaxed, “Thanks, Jack. I think I really needed to hear that,” He lifts his hand.

 

Jack returns the offered fist bump with a smile, “It’s what I do, partner.”

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully I didn't go too overboard with Mac's science babble for anyone! Let me know what you think of my medical version of vampires! Comments and kudos very welcome!


	3. Chapter 3

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Chapter 3**

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

6 Weeks Later - Jack’s POV

 

Jack spent Mac’s recovery helping other teams when they needed extra manpower. Matty and Dr. Lewis kept Mac out of the field to keep up appearances, but Mac has been fully healed for several weeks and he’s going stir crazy. Jack finally talked to Matty a couple days ago.

 

Now it’s 9 am and he’s heading to his partner’s house to pick him up. Mac had been thrilled when Jack called and told him where they were going. It’s not far, a place just outside LA, but it’s far enough that Mac won’t have to worry about anyone knowing he’d been shot. There are jogging trails so he can go for a run and a fully equipped gym for the guys to work out.

 

Even better, it belongs to the Phoenix and Matty had put out a notice that it was closed for the day. No one would bother them. Jack hadn’t even known the place existed until she suggested it and now he can’t wait to see what his boy can _really_ do. Mac is standing outside as he pulls up and doesn’t even let him get out of the car before he’s throwing his bag in the trunk and dropping into the passenger seat. Jack opted for driving the Shelby Cobra since he knows Mac loves this car with its open top.

 

Mac sighs contentedly as the wind starts whipping his hair in every direction and he turns to Jack, “Thank you _so_ much for arranging this with Matty. I can’t _wait_ to cut loose a little after being cooped up for weeks.”

 

“Hey, it isn’t entirely selfless. I expect to get that sparring match you agreed to!”

 

“Technically, I never agreed to that. I just conceded that it wouldn’t do any good to argue with you.”

 

“Same thing.” Jack says with a shrug.

 

Mac laughs, shaking his head. “Fine, but if either of us get hurt, Matty will kill us both.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll be fine. I take it you’ve been to this place before. Matty said you have a key? You did remember to _bring_ the key, right?”

 

“Yes Jack, I have the key and I go there all the time. It’s closed on Sunday mornings so I can use it without having to worry about anyone seeing me. I can _actually_ work out, not just pretend to.”

 

“Ugh. I can’t imagine having to do that. How boring. What do you want to start with?”

 

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to run first, it’s how I usually warm up.”

 

“Whatever you want, man. I’m just here to help your cover story...and see if you can actually beat me in a fight!”

 

Mac grins, “You’re not going to let that go.”

 

“Hell no! I’ve been looking forward to this!”

 

They pull into the lot and park by the door. Getting out, Mac reaches for his bag, but Jack stops him, “I’ll get these, you take off.”

 

Mac raises his hands in surrender, “Alright. The key is in the front pocket and there’s a TV in the employee lounge if you want to just chill until I get back. I’ll probably be about an hour.”

 

“Sounds like a plan. Have fun.” He heads inside.

 

\------------------------------------------------

Mac’s POV

 

Mac jogs off towards the trails in the woods out back. Man, he’s missed being out here! The weather is perfect, too. Warm, but not stifling like some days in Southern California, and there is a nice breeze floating through the trees. Once he’s out of sight, he speeds up, easing back into his 4 minute mile pace.

 

He knows these trails like the back of his hand which allows him to focus on other things. He identifies more than a dozen different types of birds singing around him. There are butterflies everywhere and he can hear the frogs around the small lake off to his right. It’s absolutely beautiful.

 

He hears a rustling to his left and he slows, jogging backwards to see what kind animal is out there. But as his eyes scan the forest he doesn’t see anything. He shrugs and turns back to his run.

 

He knows Jack is going to want to talk today. As much as Mac is glad he’s here and finally in on his secret, he knows it’s going to be awkward. Jack’s going to want to test him, watch him. Not that he blames him. No matter how well he’s hiding it, this _has_ to be freaking Jack out at least a little bit.

 

He just wishes he knew how to make it easier. Jack hasn’t asked a single question about the virus since the day he was released from medical. What is Jack thinking? How does he really feel about it? He’s been treating Mac the same as normal, which is fine, but things _aren’t_ the same as normal. Jack’s world just got turned kind of topsy-turvy and he’s acting like that happens every day. As much as it would hurt, he kind of wants Jack to freak out. At least it would be an honest, unguarded reaction.

 

But he doesn’t want to push. Jack will ask questions when he’s ready, he just hopes it’s today. He hates feeling like he’s on pins and needles. If Jack can’t handle the new dynamic and is going to leave, he’d rather just get it over with. The possibility tightens his chest.

 

A branch snaps to his left and Mac stops short, turning with alarm. Something is out there and it’s not small. He listens carefully, eyes scanning the foliage. Nothing. There’ve been reports of a couple of cougars in area. They usually hunt at night and twilight, but he can’t rule it out. He’d better get moving. He turns back to the trail and continues, staying a little more on alert for the remainder.

 

\-------------------------------------------------

Jack’s POV

 

After forty-five minutes, Jack decides he should start warming up so he’ll be ready to workout by the time Mac finishes running. A few minutes after he bumps up the treadmill from a fast walk to a jog, he hears Mac come in and the heavy click as he locks the door behind him.

 

Mac comes around the corner and smiles at him, completely at ease, not breathing hard at all, “Not wearing yourself out are you old man?”

 

“Ha, ha, very funny. I’ve been on here less than ten minutes. I’m just warming up. You wanna lift first or spar?”

 

“I figured we’d save the sparring for after lunch, as long as we don’t overdo it on the food.”

 

Jack turns off the treadmill and they head over to the leg press machine. He starts adding weights for himself as he says, “That reminds me. I found a menu for a sandwich place in your bag with the key. Is that what you wanted to do for lunch? I don’t really know what’s around here.”

 

“I forgot that was even in there. I go all the time when I come here.” He gets into position and lifts the weight sled off the lock and starts his first set as Mac continues, “It’s where I get the turkey-avocado sandwich you love so much.”

 

Jack lights up and pauses between reps long enough to respond, “The one with the sprouts and cream cheese?!”

 

“That’s the one.”

 

“Oooo, man! I wondered where you got those! You always said it was a secret!”

 

“I couldn’t tell you about this place. So how would I explain coming all the way out here for a sandwich?”

 

Jack finishes his set, re-locks the sled in place and gets up for Mac to take his turn. He smiles slightly as Mac adds another 100 pounds to the sled.

 

Mac returns the half smile. “You’re uncharacteristically quiet, Jack.”

 

Is that fear he sees in the young man’s eyes? “I’m just trying to be cool here, man. This thing doesn’t change anything between us, and I don’t want you to feel like you’re being studied, especially by me. It’s...just gonna take a little getting used to, that’s all.”

 

“It’s fine, Jack. Just be yourself. I’d rather have you freak out, or get mad, or laugh, or make jokes, or whatever, rather than try to guess what you think about it.” Mac starts his reps while he’s talking and doesn’t even seem to be trying except a _very_ slight strain in his voice as he pushes the sled back up. “Honestly, I can’t believe you haven’t asked any questions since you found out, other than that first day when I laid everything out for you.”

 

_Aaahh. So that’s what the fear is about._ He’s worried about his reaction or lack thereof. “I needed to think, process, try to look at the big picture, you know? I didn’t wanna pepper you with questions that would turn out to be stupid and unimportant.”

 

“There’s no such thing as a stupid question, Jack. Not about this. If we’re going to keep working together, then I _really_ need you to be ok with it. If that means giving you every little detail you’re even remotely curious about, then so be it -fire away.”

 

They talk through their entire workout, station to station. Usually about nothing of consequence, sometimes about Mac’s condition, but it’s light and joking, same as always. It feels good to be able to banter as usual, even about something so new. Mac relaxes more and more as they continue, the fear slowly ebbing from his eyes, though not completely disappearing. They order the sandwiches for delivery and take a break when they arrive.

 

“Oh, man I love this sandwich.” Jack mumbles with a mouthful. “Got your french dip again, huh?”

 

“Mmm hmm,” Mac says around his own mouthful.

 

“Oh, hey” Jack says, putting his sandwich down and gulping some Gatorade, “I just remembered something else I wanted to ask you about. The day you got shot, your eyes turned red.”

 

“That’s normal when I drink blood. The tissues in the face are very porous, so the blood seeps into my sinuses and a little bit gets into my tear ducts. So, when I blink, the moisture in my eyes has a red tint to it. It would look exactly the same if blood dripped into your eye. It fades in a few minutes and it doesn’t happen with an IV.”

 

Jack nods, “And why was I in danger when I helped you? You didn’t have any trouble stopping when Dr. Lewis gave you a bag to drink the other day. You even talked to me halfway through. What’s the difference?”

 

Mac looks down, “That’s kind of my fault at this point. It’s only a risk when drinking directly from a living person. The heartbeat is...hypnotic. I lose track of everything else but the sound and feel of it. Supposedly, with practice, I can teach myself _not_ to do that, but I’ve never been willing to risk it after…”

 

Jack knows exactly what he’s thinking, but doesn’t want to let on that Matty told him. “I take it something happened?”

 

Mac won’t look at him, but he nods.

 

Jack isn’t about to push, “I’m sorry, man. I shouldn’t -”

 

“I killed someone. A long time ago. I got hurt falling out of a tree. She...she did what you did only…”

 

“Only she didn’t tie you up first.”

 

Mac nods. “She probably thought she’d be able to pull her arm away since I was so little. She was wrong.”

 

“Geez, buddy.”

 

“I was 5. I tried to give the blood back to her, infect her. Thinking back on it, I’m pretty sure I did it right, it just didn’t work. I stayed with her, crying the whole time until my dad got home and found us in the backyard. He was devastated. I don’t really know how he got the authorities to play along, but everyone was told it was an accident.”

 

Jack closes his eyes, “Oh shit, your mom.” He opens his eyes to see a tear slide down Mac’s face before it’s quickly wiped away.

 

“He couldn’t really look at me after that. I think I reminded him too much of her and what happened. It’s probably why he left. That’s why I flipped out when you helped me. If I killed you...Jack, I never would have been able to forgive myself. It would have killed me.” Another tear slides down his face.

 

“I’m so sorry, man. You know what happened to your mom wasn’t your fault though, right? You didn’t ask to be infected.”

 

“Of course not. I was only 3.”

 

“Exactly and you were only 5 when this happened. So cut yourself some slack, man.”

 

Mac wipes his eyes and smiles sadly at Jack.

 

“How _did_ you get infected anyway?”

 

“I don’t remember much of anything and I was never told the whole story, but a woman attacked me in our backyard. I _do_ remember that I wasn’t scared. She spoke to me kindly, probably to avoid alerting anyone in the house that she was there. She told me that my father needed to pay for something he did to her husband. Then she cut my neck...that’s all I remember.”

 

“She attacked a toddler as payback?! That is seriously messed up! Where is she now?”

 

“She got away and as far as I know she was never caught. I don’t even know her name.”

 

“And you have no idea what your dad supposedly did to this woman’s husband?”

 

“None. She didn’t say, and if my grandfather knew, he never told me.”

 

“Damn. That’s-” Jack takes a calming breath, “Damn. Do you remember anything about her? Her face, hair, voice, anything?”

 

“Not really. I remember long dark hair, but I’m not even sure it’s her I’m remembering. I was so young and she was gone before the infection took hold. It could just as easily be one of the police officers or medical personnel I’m picturing.”

 

They eat for a few minutes and Jack wants to say something but isn’t sure how to start. Of course Mac notices.

 

“What is it, Jack?”

 

“Well, I was thinking about what to do if you get hurt again and I think I know a better way for me to help you.”

 

“No, Jack! Don’t you dare!”

 

“Chill out a second and listen to me. If the heartbeat is the problem, then we avoid that. I can put my blood into a cup or water bottle or whatever before I give it to you. That would work, right?”

 

Mac looks stunned, “It should. I never even thought of that.”

 

“That’s because you’ve been so set against it happening _at all_ that you didn’t spend any time thinking about how it _could_ be done. Whereas me? There’s no way in hell I’m going to sit there and watch you die if there is something, _anything_ I can do to help. So, _I’ve_ been trying to figure it out since it happened. The heartbeat thing was the key.”

 

“I still don’t want you to do that, Jack.”

 

“People donate blood all the time. This ain’t any different. Besides, we both know you’re not going to talk me out it. So, just take the compromise.”

 

Mac sighs and shakes his head, but says nothing, taking another bite of his sandwich instead.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------

 

Food done, wrappers tossed, table cleaned, they head for the sparring mat.

 

“You sure you want to do this? I don’t want you pissed off at me if you lose.” Mac is smiling, but Jack can see actual worry in his eyes.

 

“Brother, after everything you’ve told me about this virus and after watching the amount of weight you just lifted, I might be more pissed if you _don’t_ beat me. Cuz it means you went easy on me again. I’d rather get my ass handed to me than be coddled.”

 

Mac chuckles, “As long as you’re sure, man.”

 

“Bring it, baby!”

 

They face off and take their stances. Jack doesn’t wait, launching at Mac, trying to catch him off guard. It doesn’t work. Mac sidesteps and easily knocks Jack off balance, pushing him to the floor. Jack rolls once and is back on his feet, fists raised.

 

Jack takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “Okay, I’m gonna suggest something, but I want you to promise me you’ll let me finish before you react.”

 

They circle each other as Mac eyes him anxiously. “I’m not going to like this, am I.”

 

Jack throws a punch and Mac blocks. “Just promise to hear me out.”

 

Mac slowly nods in agreement, and gazes apprehensively at the man who has become family on so many levels.

 

“I’m going to ask you to infect me.” Jack hardly has time to register the movement before Mac’s fist connects with his jaw. _Holy shit! He really has been holding back!_ Stars explode through his vision as he struggles to keep his feet beneath him, “Whoa! You said you’d let me finish!”

 

He just manages to dodge the next punch. “I don’t mean now!  Not today or tomorrow or even next month!” Mac backs off just a little, his face livid. “I want you to wait. Wait until that moment when death is _already_ knocking on my door.”

 

Mac throws another punch, but he’s too distracted and Jack is able to spin him, getting behind him and wrapping an arm around his neck, pulling him backwards and momentarily off balance.

 

Jack continues, “Whether it’s in the field because of a bullet like what happened with you or if I’m 90 years old, literally on my deathbed just waiting to die.” Mac shifts his feet, trying to ease the arch of his back. “That way, if it doesn’t work, the difference is only a matter of minutes or days at most and probably with a lot less pain.” Another shift. “I’ve told you before, I ain’t afraid to die, I just don’t want it to be painful.”

 

Mac’s elbow connects with Jack’s ribs and he doubles over, loosening his hold on Mac as the younger man bends forward, tossing Jack over his hip. Landing flat on his back, Jack rolls just in time to avoid Mac’s foot coming down on his stomach, and he’s up, circling again.

 

“But if it _does_ work? Man, you don’t have to be alone, _ever_ . Neither do I.” Jack throws two quick punches, one low, one high. Mac dodges both like he isn’t even trying. “And we can figure out how to survive _together_ , like we’ve always done.” A kick to Mac’s side is blocked with one hand as if his leg is a feather. “Think of all the places we could see, we could live. Think of all the history we could witness, the adventures we could have! Plus, _I don’t have to die!_ ”

 

“When I leave California, I’ll probably have to fake my death. If I infect you and you come with me, you will too.”

 

“I’m aware of that.”

 

The kick comes out of nowhere and Jack is doubled over again, clutching his side. Mac is shaking his head absently, now looking more sad than angry. Jack puffs out a breath as he stands straight again. “I may not be _afraid_ to die, Mac, but that doesn’t mean I _want_ to. Even more, I don’t have to die knowing I’ve left you behind!” Jack’s voice breaks on the last word, tears instantly fill his eyes. “God, that hurts just to say it.” He takes a shuddering breath and keeps going. “I don’t want to leave you, man. _Please_ , at least give me the _chance_ to stay.”

 

That’s it. There’s nothing more to say, so he waits, practically watching the gears turn in Mac’s head. Mac has completely dropped his guard, arms by his sides. “You don’t understand what you’re asking for.”

 

“Of _course_ I don’t. No one can. That’s not the point.”

 

“Have you thought about your family? They won’t have a body to bury and you’ll have to watch all of _them_ die. I know you, Jack. I know how much your family means to you. You’d still be alive, but you’d never be able to see them again. That’ll hurt you more than anything.”

 

Jack looks down sadly, all thoughts of their sparring match forgotten. “I gotta admit, I’m not thrilled about that part, but if we’re faking our deaths, we’ll have time to plan, set things up, maybe even say goodbye...in a way.”

 

Mac shakes his head, “You can’t say goodbye, Jack. They’d get suspicious.”

 

Jack brushes that off with a wave of his hand. “Nah, I already got a couple of letters written. _If you’re reading this, then something’s happened and I’m gone._ That kind of thing. I’ll write more.”

 

“I didn’t know you’d done that.” It seems to make Mac even more sad. Jack ducks his head to catch Mac’s eyes, “Sorry, I shouldn’t really be surprised. It’s just,” he pauses, “the idea of _you_ preparing for - ”, Mac closes his eye, releasing a slow breath and shaking his head.

 

“I’ve always known, Mac. I was career Army, Special Forces at that. Then CIA, now covert ops. I’ve always known there’s a heavy chance I’ll be making a rather _abrupt_ exit from this world. I wanted to be sure the people I love got to hear from me one last time. One last chance for me to say things that always feel too mushy in person, or things I just didn’t have the _guts_ to say. And a chance to  _apologize_  for choosing this life.”

 

Mac’s expression turns to confusion.

 

“It’s a good life, don’t get me wrong. I mean, I know I ain’t perfect and I’ve made mistakes, some of ‘em huge. For the most part though, I’m _proud_ of the life I’ve lived. But I know what I’ve put my family through -all the time away, them worrying and _knowing_ I’m getting hurt, waiting for that knock on the door and some guy in a uniform to tell them I’m gone, but never getting to know what happened to me because it’s classified, maybe not getting a body back to bury. I always felt I owed them something. Hell, I owe them a whole lot more than a stupid letter, but I know I can’t realistically do more.”

 

Mac’s face is blank, just staring. Jack takes a deep breath and puts a hand on Mac’s shoulder. “Just promise you’ll try, Mac. If I’m gonna be dead anyway, what’s the harm in trying?”

 

A plethora of emotions cross Mac’s face as he considers. Pain and fear, a flash of happiness, anger and confusion, all flicker through his eyes before sadness takes over, along with something dark that Jack can’t decipher. He can only imagine what Mac is thinking. After what feels like forever, but is probably less than a minute, Mac locks eyes with him, “I promise.”

 

Jack let’s out the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding and pulls Mac to him, wrapping him in a firm hug. “You know I love you, brother.”

 

“I know. I love you, too.”

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------


	4. Chapter 4

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Chapter 4**

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jack’s POV - Sunday 8am

 

The next eight months pass the same as usual. The team spends a week tracking down a kidnapped Senator’s daughter, only to find out she ran away with her boyfriend to escape her controlling father. They break up a human trafficking ring, in Alaska of all places, where Jack gets shot in the arm then spends 4 weeks whining about being bored, though if anybody asks he will vehemently deny whining. All in all, pretty status quo, nothing out of the ordinary. Though Bozer got sent off to spy school last month. The team can’t  _ wait _ to see how that turns out.

 

Jack has taken to joining Mac on his Sunday morning trips to the private gym. It’s given the two time to work out, relax, talk, finally finish their sparring match and have several rematches, all of which Jack loses spectacularly. Things are good. Jack should have known it couldn’t last.

 

There’s no hint of anything wrong as Jack pulls up to Mac’s house. Bozer’s car and Mac’s Jeep are parked in the same spots. Jack sighs as he opens the front door.

 

“You know, Mac, you really should lock the door. Making someone break it down or pick the lock would  _ at least _ give you some warning.” There’s no answer. “Mac?”

 

Jack checks the bedrooms and the bathroom where he’s sure he’ll find his partner getting ready. Nope. He heads to the kitchen. “Yo, Mac! You here, buddy?” He pulls out his phone and calls and finds his cell phone on the coffee table in the living room. His hair is starting to stand on end. This isn’t right.

 

He decides to check the garage. Maybe Mac is working on some project and lost track of time? Not likely, but he has to look everywhere before he panics. As he steps outside, the neighbor, Angie, comes jogging up the drive.

 

“Jack! Hey, I saw you pull up. How’s Mac doing? Is he okay?”

 

Now Jack’s confused  _ and _ worried, “What do you mean?”

 

“I saw the ambulance yesterday. They brought Mac out of the house on a stretcher. I figured you would know.”

 

Jack’s heart-rate jumps. “No. No, I don’t know anything about this Angie. Start from the beginning. What happened?”

 

“I don’t really know. Mac came back from a run just before lunch as usual and a friend of his pulled up a few minutes later.”

 

“A friend?”

 

“I assumed so. Mac gave him a hug when he saw him and they went inside. I didn’t recognize him though”

 

“Okay, go on.”

 

“About 15 minutes later an ambulance pulled up, and the EMTs went in. A few minutes after that, they wheeled Mac out on a stretcher with an IV in his arm, loaded him into the ambulance and drove off.”

 

“What about the friend?”

 

“He followed in his car.”

 

“Can you describe him? His car?”

 

She seems to realize there may be something more to this and she’s getting scared, “Jack, what’s going on?”

 

Jack is trying very hard to keep them  _ both _ calm. He takes a step closer and puts his hands on her shoulders. “Angie, please. This is real important. Can you describe the friend or his car?”

 

She takes a deep shuddering breath, “He’s about your age, a little older maybe. He’s got real short hair, maybe blond? It’s so short it was hard to tell. White guy, average build. Not really anything remarkable about him.”

 

“The car?”

 

“Nothing special either. It was a 4-door sedan, medium gray, relatively new. I don’t know much about cars.”

 

“Did you happen to see any of the licence plate?”

 

She looks down and shakes her head, “Sorry. I didn’t know I should be looking.”

 

“It’s okay, you did better than I could have hoped. You said Mac had an IV. Was he awake?”

 

“No. I just figured he overdid it on his run and passed out or something.”

 

“Well, maybe that’s all it is. I’m gonna make a few calls. You go home now. Okay?” She nods and he waits for her to leave then dials Matty.

 

“What’s wrong, Jack?”

 

“Mac was taken out of his house in an ambulance yesterday around lunchtime. Why weren’t we notified?”

 

“Let me find out.” She hangs up.

 

Jack heads back inside to start looking at things in more detail. He heads to the most likely place Mac would start entertaining a guest, the kitchen. Nothing seems out of place. Careful not to touch anything he bends down to look at the counter in the light. It’s been wiped clean.

 

His phone rings and he answers it without looking at who it is, “Dalton.”

 

“There is no record of an ambulance being dispatched to Mac’s address or a 911 call. How do you know that’s what happened?” Matty’s tone is clipped and worried.

 

“Let’s just say there are some bonuses to having a nosey neighbor with a thing for blonde haired, blue eyed geniuses,” he tells her everything Angie told him.

 

“Riley is already digging into traffic cameras in the area trying to find some trace of the ambulance. I’ll tell her about the car following. I’m also sending a forensics team, they should be there soon. Can you think of  _ anyone _ Mac would great as a friend that might do this?”

 

“I’ve been trying ever since Angie mentioned it. I’m coming up blank, but I’ll keep thinking on it.”

 

He hangs up as he squats all the way down on the floor, lowering his head to let the light play across the hardwood. In amongst the footprints, he sees a spot by the island that’s all smudged...about the size of Mac laying down. Maybe whoever grabbed Mac left something of themselves behind. He shows the area to the forensics team when they arrive and then he stays out of the way. They find several prints and put a rush on them. He can only hope it gives them a lead.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------

Mac’s POV - 18 hours earlier - Saturday 2pm

 

Mac slowly blinks his eyes open against the light. The first thing he notices is that he’s laying on his back on the floor, and the ceiling with the lights is far above him. Really far, it’s got to be at least 30 feet. There’s also a camera on the ceiling and a speaker. Strange, there’s a door, but it’s 20 feet up, no ledge and no door handle, perfectly flush to the wall around it.

 

He looks around to find the only other things in the room are a toilet and a sink. The kind you find in some public restrooms where all the plumbing is on the other side of the wall. Slowly getting to his feet, he realizes his clothes have been changed. He’s now wearing very simple dark blue hospital scrubs and dark blue socks. But how in the hell did he get here? Images immediately come to mind:

 

_ A knock at his door and opening it to find Dr. Taylor standing there. The doctor assigned to him while he was in the Army because he’d already known about the virus Mac has. He told Mac he’d just rotated home again and decided to look him up and see how he’s doing. Mac had invited him in and they’d talked for a few minutes. Mac turned to get Taylor a drink from the fridge. _

 

Mac raises a hand to his neck as he remembers the needle he’d felt seconds after his back was turned. Looking around some more he sees there are no electrical outlets and no light switches. The walls and floor are smooth concrete and the corners are rounded so there are no edges anywhere. There’s a small door that looks like it’s for a food tray on the floor of one wall.

 

“Don’t bother, Mac.” The voice comes from the speaker on the ceiling, a voice he recognizes.

 

“Dr. Taylor?”

 

“Sorry about this, Mac. I really don’t have a choice.”

 

“Come on, Nigel. Talk to me, what’s going on?”

 

“This room was specifically designed for someone like you. I modified it for you in particular knowing how resourceful you are. I’ve been very careful.”

 

The food tray door lifts open and Mac backs away and lowers his eye level to see what’s in the next room. Dr. Taylor tells him, “Lay down on your back and put your left arm all the way through the trap door.”

 

Mac chuckles, shaking his head. “I don’t think so.”

 

“Don’t make me do this the hard way, Mac. It would be a lot less comfortable for you, and a lot more hassle for me.”

 

“What are you going to do?”

 

“I just need a blood sample.”

 

Mac’s breath hitches and he barely whispers, “My blood?” This can’t be happening. His nightmare, his worst fear coming true: locked in a lab cage by someone he’d thought he could trust. “Nigel, please. Don’t do this. I don’t know why you’re doing this to me, but it’s  _ not _ worth it.”

 

“Put your arm through the door.”

 

Mac fights to bottle the panic welling up inside, keeping his face blank. “If you’re being threatened, I can help you!”

 

“Put your arm through the door. I won’t tell you again.”

 

Mac shakes his head, “You know I won’t do it.”

 

Mac hears a sigh through the speaker before a click tells him its been turned off. The trap door snaps shut. Fifteen seconds later the door above him opens and two smoking canisters are dropped into the room as the door slams shut. The gas fills the room quickly and Mac is overcome by it. Coughing, he sinks to the floor as his vision fades. When he opens his eyes again, he’s laying on the floor, his arm through the trap door and secured with some kind of shackles.

 

“I didn’t want to do it this way, Mac. I need a pure sample, so now you have to lay like that for 15-20 minutes to be sure your body has completely removed the gas from your system.”

 

Mac closes his eyes and a single thought consumes his mind,  _ “Hurry, Jack.” _

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------

Jack’s POV - Sunday 10am

 

Jack paces the War Room, listening to Riley’s fingers flying across her laptop. It takes every ounce of self control he’s got to keep himself from nagging her about progress. Interrupting her won’t help.

 

Matty is watching his progress back and forth while she waits on hold with the last private ambulance company that serves Mac’s area. She opens her mouth to say something to him but her attention suddenly snaps back to the phone in her hand.

 

“Yes, I’m still here.” Jack stops short staring at her, wishing he could hear what she’s being told. “You’re sure?” His heart plummets as he lets out a grunt of frustration and resumes pacing.

 

“Well, thank you for checking.” She hangs up, “That’s the last one. Riley, you got anything yet?”

 

“I found the ambulance and the car leaving the neighborhood, but the plates are fake.” Her laptop chimes. “Forensics just sent me an e-mail, hang on...okay, we got him.”

 

She taps a few more keys and a picture come up on the main view screen. “This is Dr.-”

 

“Nigel Taylor.” Jacks cut in. “He was one of the docs in Afghanistan.” He fixes Matty with a stare. “He transferred to my unit the same day Mac did.”

 

She knows what he’s asking and answers with an almost imperceptible nod. Jack closes his eyes.  _ He knows about the virus. Shit! _

 

He turns to Riley, “What do we have on this guy?”

 

“Well, you’re right. He worked as an Army doctor until about 3 years ago. It doesn’t look like he’s worked since then.”

 

“He wouldn’t have to, he’s loaded.” Jack says, “He invented some medical doohickey for use in the field and made millions. He never seemed to care though. He always said he loved his work too much to quit.”

 

“I think I just found out why he finally  _ did _ quit. He rotated home from his last tour and was told his daughter was diagnosed with leukemia two months earlier. He’s spent a  _ ton _ of money on treatments. Looks like none of it’s working though, she’s only got a few months left.” Riley looks extremely sad. “She’s only 7.”

 

Still typing away at her computer, Riley doesn’t see the knowing look that passes between Matty and Jack and she continues. “We’ve just got to figure out what that has to do with Mac. He’s not a doctor or anything so he can’t help cure her and it’s not like Mac  _ gave _ her the leukemia, so it’s not revenge. Why would he spend the last few months of his daughter’s life going after some EOD Tech he knew six years ago?”

 

Matty interrupts her train of thought, “Let’s worry about motive later. Where might he have taken Mac?”

 

“I’m working on that. He’s got three houses, one in Bakersfield that seems to be his main residence, one in New York and one in Georgia. Right after he found out his daughter was sick he also started funneling a lot of money into several shell corporations. I’ve already found at least two shell companies inside of other shell companies. It’s going to take me some time to peel back the layers.”

 

“I’ll get you more hands to help now that we have something to look for.”

 

Jack pipes up, “I can check the house in Bakersfield.” He starts heading for the door.

 

Matty calls after him. “No, Jack.” He spins around shocked. “He wouldn’t take Mac to his house and if we search the place it could tip him off that we’re onto him. There’s no telling what he could do to Mac if that happens.”

 

Jack balls his hands into fists and closes his eyes, trying to slow his breathing.  _ How does this keep happening to Mac? Can’t he catch a single break?! _ “I’m going crazy just standing here!”

 

“I know Jack and I promise you will get to be front and center as soon as we have a viable location. But we  _ have _ to be smart about this.”

 

Jack sags, defeated. “I know,” He resumes pacing.

 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------

Mac’s POV - Sunday 12pm

 

_ Has it really been only a single day? _ Mac is  _ bored _ . He’s being treated well, aside from being locked up and having more than a pint of blood taken already. But Nigel refuses to give him  _ anything _ to do, convinced he’ll use a pencil and a book of Sudokus to escape somehow -he’d need at least two other things for that.

 

“Come on, Nigel! Anything! I’m losing my mind in here!” He gets the same answer he did the previous times he’d tried...silence.

 

The trap door opens, a tray of food is pushed inside and the door snaps shut again. At least the food is good. Dinner last night had been a chicken breast in some kind of sauce, a mound of mashed potatoes and green beans. Breakfast was a pile of scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, toast and orange juice. He couldn’t even finish it all. Now it’s a large bowl of soup, several slices of rye bread, an apple, a large cup of milk and a bottle of water. He can’t claim they’re starving him, but he’d rather be eating all this at home.

 

He takes his time eating since he has nothing better to do. He finishes everything but the apple and bottle of water. He’ll save those for later. He puts the tray by the trap door having learned last night that refusal to do so would just get him gassed again. He lays on his back in the middle of the floor and starts throwing the apple in the air and catching it.  _ Bored enough to play catch with myself, geez. _

 

The tray is taken out, but the trap door stays open this time. Curious, Mac moves to look and Nigel’s voice echos down from the ceiling. “Give me your arm.”

 

Mac stands and backs to the opposite wall. “Nigel, no. You can’t.”

 

“You already know how this is going to play out, Mac. Just cooperate.”

 

“You can’t keep taking more without replacing it!”

 

“And I will. The delivery was delayed, but should be arriving today. I’ll get you more blood by the end of the day.”

 

Mac looks at the camera skeptically.

 

“I’m not a monster, Mac. I changed up my plan to grab you from the gym’s running trails after you started bringing Dalton with you because I didn’t want to have to hurt him to get to you. I assume you finally told him?”

 

Mac ignores the question, only responding to the rest, “Liar. You were afraid he’d stop you. It had nothing to do with not wanting to hurt him.”

 

“Either way, it took a while to find and buy an old ambulance and fix it up and I  _ don’t _ want to hurt you. I have no intention of keeping you long term, and I’ve protected you. I have a lot of people working here, but they’re compartmentalized. No one who knows you’re here knows anything about the existence of the virus. Those who know about the virus have no idea you’re here and the two groups are kept carefully separated.”

 

A modicum of relief creeps through Mac at that news, but it’s still secondary right now. “Then just let me go! You have to know they’re going to find us and you’re going to be in  _ a lot _ of trouble. You’ve treated me well and I’ll tell them that, but you have to let me go. Don’t make this any worse.”

 

“I know I’ll likely spend the rest of my life in jail for this, but if I succeed first it’ll be worth it. Give me your arm. I promise I’ll give you blood today, one way or another.”

 

“Succeed with what?! Tell me why you’re doing this! Maybe I can -”

 

“Last chance, give me your arm.”

 

Mac shakes his head but takes a step forward. Desperately trying to think of a way to avoid losing more blood that won’t just end up getting him knocked out. He get an idea that might work. He backs up against the wall again, directly across from the full sized door. It’s high, but he might be able to reach it when Nigel opens the door to toss in the canisters.

 

He lets nothing of his plan slow on his face as he shakes his head at the camera, “I won’t.” He waits for the trap door to close, and it does, but not before the two gas canisters are tossed through it.  _ Dammit! _

 

As he coughs and tries to hold onto consciousness, he hears Nigel, “Nice try, Mac. I know better than to be that predictable with a soldier.”

 

Darkness envelopes him.

 

Even before he’s completely awake, Mac knows his arm is shackled to the floor with a needle in it. He sighs as he blinks open his eyes.

 

“And now we have to wait again.” Nigel says nearby on the other side of the trap door.

 

“You know I had to try.”

 

“Yes, I know. I’d probably do the same thing in your place.”

 

\-------------------------------------------------

Mac’s POV - Sunday Evening

 

Mac is getting tired of waking up on this floor. It takes him longer to come around and coax his eyes open, trying to remember why he was out this time. He woke up after the gas, right? Yes, he’s sure he did. Oh, yeah. Nigel took more blood, too much. He’d passed out from the loss. He slowly tries to get up, but doesn’t get any further than sitting against the wall. His head is spinning so badly it’s making him nauseous. He needs more blood, soon, or he’s going to be in real trouble.

 

“Nigel?” He tries to call but barely a whisper comes out. He takes a few deep breaths and tries again, “Nigel?” There, that worked.

 

“Yes, Mac. I know. The delivery should be here soon.”

 

Mac tries to focus on breathing. When did he lay back down? Oh, well, it’s fine. Maybe a nap would be a good idea. It’ll make the time go by faster until the blood arrives, and it  _ will _ arrive. He won’t let himself consider the alternative.

 

He blinks a few times. Did he sleep? No idea, but he hears a noise. He looks up toward where it came from and sees the best. thing. ever. The door above him is open, there’s a ladder leading down from it, and walking across the room toward him…

 

Jack.

 

“Mac? Can you hear me, buddy?”

 

Mac nods and sighs out “yeah” with a tired smile.

 

“You okay?”

 

“He took a lot and I’m  _ really _ dizzy, but he didn’t do anything else. Just get me out of here.”

 

Mac moves to get to his feet and Jack helps him. He’s glad to find he can walk. Balance is an issue, but Jack steadies him and they get to the ladder.

 

“Hang on, Mac. I’ve got to find a way to get you up the ladder.”

 

“I think I can climb it. My strength seems fine.”

 

“Okay, but I’m going to be right behind you in case you slip.”

 

They climb slowly and by the time they reach the top, Mac is exhausted. Pulling himself onto the landing at the top of a movable stairway on the other side of the door, he flops onto his back, squeezing his eyes shut and willing his head to stop swirling around the room.

 

He hears Jack above him, presumably on comms. “Matty, I got Mac. He seems okay, just weak and dizzy.” There is a pause as Jack listens, “No, he’s not here either.”

 

Then closer, “Mac, buddy, we gotta go. Most of the building is secure, but they haven’t found Taylor yet. You have any idea where he could be?”

 

“No. I woke up in that room, and was never let out.”

 

“Well, the others can handle him. Let’s get you out of here. Up you get, man.”

 

Mac groans softly as he forces his body to move. Jack helps him up and puts Mac’s arm over his shoulders to guide him down the stairs. Just as they reach the floor, Mac hears several soft pops and Jack hisses in pain, then staggers and falls, dragging him to the floor with him.

 

Jack rolls over and fires a shot over Mac’s head. He then reaches around and pulls three darts out of his leg. Mac looks behind him and sees Nigel with a wound in his shoulder and an air pistol on the floor a few feet away.

 

“I’m sorry, Dalton,” Nigel says, “But I can’t let you take him. I’m so sorry. I never wanted anything like this.”

 

A grunt from Jack turns Mac’s attention back to him. Jack looks confused, staring at his arms as he moves them slowly back and forth. He hasn’t tried to get up.

 

“Jack?”

 

“I feel weird. It’s hard to move.”

 

Mac snatches one of the darts from the floor and turns to Nigel. “What did you do?”

 

“I’m sorry, Mac. It’s tetrodotoxin. I need you. I can’t let him take you away.”

 

Mac’s eyes go wide as he looks back to his friend. Jack is still confused and raises an eyebrow in question.

 

“Tetrodotoxin is the poison in pufferfish and several other sea animals. It’s a powerful paralytic.”

 

Nigel adds the key piece. “It’ll paralyze your diaphragm and stop you from breathing. I’m more sorry than I can say, Dalton. But it’ll be quick. I wouldn’t have hurt Mac, and I’d have let him go when I was done. Why couldn’t you just wait?!”

 

Jack’s voice is strained and gravely when he responds. “That question is so stupid it doesn’t even deserve an answer.”

 

Mac closes his eyes and bows his head over Jack, who is starting breathe more shallow. Then looks him in the eyes, his own quickly filling with tears.

 

Jacks gasps out, “You promised.”

 

Mac blinks and tears fall. He slowly nods his head. He takes the comm from Jack’s ear and puts it in his own. “Matty?”

 

“Mac. Are you okay?”

 

He ignores her question, “You need to keep everyone out of this lab until Jack or I say otherwise.”

 

“What’s going on, Mac?” She sounds apprehensive.

 

“I need you to trust me, I’ll explain later.”

 

There’s a frustrated sigh. “You better. Alright everyone, you heard him. No one goes in that room unless I say so.”

 

“We’re going dark.” Mac hears her begin to protest as he switches off the comm. Jack doesn’t have enough time for him to be arguing with Matty.

 

He turns to Nigel who is sitting on the floor, leaning back against the desk and holding a hand to his bleeding shoulder. Mac summons all the strength he can and launches across the small room toward him. He stumbles once, but reaches Nigel before he can get to the air pistol. He pins Nigel against the desk with a hand at his throat.

 

“What are you doing, Mac? You aren’t going to hurt me. You don’t have it in you.”

 

“I made a promise to Jack, and you’re going to help me keep it by fulfilling the promise you made to me.”

 

“What promise?”

 

“You promised to give me blood,  _ one way or another _ .” Nigel is shocked as Mac easily rips the fabric from around the bullet wound with his other hand and too terrified to do anything but shake his head frantically.

 

“I’ll try not to kill you.” Mac lowers his head to the wound and drinks. Before he realizes it, it’s over. He releases his hold on Nigel who slumps to the floor. “Sorry.”

 

He hurries back over to Jack and drops beside him. “Jack?” His partner’s breathing is so slow that for a second he thinks it’s already stopped. “Jack!”

 

Jack’s eyes flutter open sluggishly and he seems to be having trouble focusing. Mac breathes a sigh of relief, but knows he’s almost out of time. Putting a hand on either side of Jack’s face he turns the older man’s head to look at him fully.

 

“Are you really sure, Jack? It can’t be undone.”

 

Even mostly paralyzed, Jack manages to somehow look annoyed. He tries to answer, but the only sound that comes out is the ‘s’ of what is still clearly the word ‘Yes’. Mac briefly presses his forehead to Jack’s before pulling back and reaching for Jack’s hand and knife.

 

He pauses only a second to breathe the word “Please,” Then quickly opens Jack’s wrist and brings it to his mouth. If he allows himself time to think about what he’s doing he’ll panic.

 

The blood explodes through his mouth. The steady  _ thrum, thrum, thrum _ envelopes him. The room around him evaporates and his eyes drift closed. Warmth spreads through him as his heart pounds fresh blood through his veins. He feels groggy, heavy with it. 

 

The rhythm of the other beat in his ears begins to slow….slower….softer….it flutters…..and stops. His eyes snap open and he fixes them on the man lying in front of him as a terrifying realization screams through his mind.

 

Jack is dead.

 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My 2 editors haven't had a chance to get this chapter back to me yet (stupid real life!), but I didn't want to wait any longer to post it. So, typos/errors are all on me, including and especially the extra page I added in the middle at 3am last night (big thanks to Snowecat for the comment -I wasn't sure if I should include the conversation or just mention it). I'm a little nervous about how little feedback there was on chapter 4, so hopefully I haven't lost ya'll and you like how I ended this!! (for now -I may make it a series). Enjoy!
> 
> Oh, and a quick trigger warning for suicide ideation here.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Chapter 5**

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mac’s POV

 

Panic nearly drowns him. He can’t breathe but he’s hyperventilating. The world has stopped but his whole body shakes. The room has gone silent, but inside his head he’s screaming in agony. He just listened to Jack die,  _ felt _ it happen,  _ tasted _ the last beat of his powerful heart. No! Not the last beat. Can’t be the last beat. He grabs the knife from the floor and clumsily opens his own wrist, too deep, but he doesn’t care.

 

He opens Jack’s mouth with his other hand and shoves the dripping wound to it. Then he waits...and waits...and waits. Nothing is happening.  _ Why is nothing happening?! _

 

“No, no, no, no, no!! Please Jack!” Nothing. “JACK!” Nothing.

 

Like a switch is flipped, Mac goes completely still except the red tinted tears sliding over his cheeks. It didn’t work. Why didn’t it work? He did it right, he’s sure he did. Fate couldn’t be that cruel to him, could it? First his mother, now Jack?

 

He absently reaches for Jack’s gun laying on the floor next to them. He doesn’t like guns, but this is fitting. He lifts the gun to aim at the side of his own head. Jack’s whole body twitches and is still again.

 

Mac freezes, daring to hope. With a second, stronger twitch, Jack drags in a raspy breath then starts coughing, eyes wide and unfocused, hands flailing, searching. Mac drops the gun into his lap and puts his wrist back to Jack’s mouth. Jack’s eyes drift closed and he settles, clamping Mac’s wrist to him with a vise-like grip.

 

Mac feels blood being drawn from him in slow, gentle pulls. It’s almost as hypnotic as drinking it himself. His mind fogs and he struggles to keep his eyes open. Seconds tick by leisurely, then his arm is suddenly shoved away and Jack screams, back arching. Jack clamps his mouth shut against the pain clearly ripping through him. What’s going on? Mac’s own infection wasn’t painful at all.

 

He tries to comfort his partner, “Ssshh, Jack. Ssshh. It’s almost over, it’ll be okay.” Hoping like hell he’s not lying. “I’m right here, ssshh.”

 

A few seconds later, Jack quiets, slowly rolling onto his side toward Mac, panting. “Holy fuck that hurt. Like my whole body was literally on fire. You could’ve warned me about that part.”

 

“I didn’t know. I don’t remember it hurting. Maybe it was the poison being burned off? I didn’t have anything like that in my system.”

 

Gradually catching his breath, he looks up at Mac. “I guess I got heads.” He laughs a little at his own joke and Mac can’t stop the crazy sounding giggle that burbles out of him. His emotions are in turmoil, overlapping.

 

Jack realizes that Mac is holding his sanity by the thinnest of threads. “Breathe, Mac.” He says calmly, gently. “Breathe. It’s alright. I’m right here. I’m okay.”

 

He reaches out to put a hand on Mac’s knee and sees the gun still resting in his lap. He redirects his hand to take it, sitting up as he does. “Mac?”

 

Still reeling, Mac’s locks his eyes onto Jack’s, desperately trying to ground himself. “I thought you were dead. I thought it didn’t work.”

 

Understanding shows on Jack’s face before pain fills his eyes and a tear drips down his face leaving a faint red line. “This was for you?”

 

“I told you it would kill me if…”

 

“And you knew. When you made me the promise to try this, you...you knew this is how you’d react if it didn’t work.” Mac doesn’t respond. “Didn’t you.”

 

Mac slowly nods. “There’s a connection that’s made when drinking from someone. I  _ felt _ your heart stop, Jack. I knew I wouldn’t be able to handle it if you didn’t come back.” Jack sags and his eyes close. He drops the gun beside him and blindly pulls Mac to him, holding on for dear life.

 

“Oh god, Mac. I never would have asked you to do this if I knew that was the deal I was making.”

 

Mac relaxes into him. “You go kaboom, I go kaboom. It goes both ways, Jack.”

 

Suddenly Mac gasps and pulls away, sitting bolt upright. “I almost forgot.” He turns the comm back on. “Matty, we’re okay. Give us another minute.” He turns the comm off without waiting for a response. “We need to move.”

 

They both jump to their feet. Jack holsters his gun and moves toward Dr. Taylor.

 

“He’s dead, Jack.”

 

“I only shot him in the shoulder.”

 

Mac pointedly looks anywhere  _ but _ at Jack, “I did it. He’d taken too much blood from me. I was too weak to try to infect you. I wouldn’t have had enough to give.”

 

“Shit. I’m sorry, Mac.”

 

“It was  _ his _ fault, not yours. All of this was his fault.” Mac goes over to the desk and starts shuffling through papers.

 

“What are you looking for?”

 

“Anything that identifies me. So far everything just says ‘the subject’. He said he protected me, but.” He flips on the computer screen. “It’s password protected.” He sighs. “Fine.”

 

He opens the housing and grabs the bottle of water from the desk and splashes it inside the tower. It immediately starts to spark and smoke, then shuts down with a groan. “That should do it.” He turns the comm back on again. “We’re all done here, Matty. How is everything else?”

 

“Finally! The building is secure, but there’s still no sign of Dr. Taylor.”

 

“He’s in here with us. He’s dead. We’re heading out.” He pauses. “Matty. Tell Dr. Lewis she has two patients coming in.”

 

There’s silence from the other end and when she responds “Understood,” he can tell she’s gotten the message -Jack is infected now, too.

 

\----------------------------------------------------------------

Jack’s POV

 

The two of them spend the night in medical being checked out. Since he’s newly infected, Jack is poked, prodded and treated like a pin cushion by Dr. Lewis for half the night as she takes multiple samples. Representatives from the Center for Disease Control arrive first thing in the morning, including someone who’s quite the shock for him -Carol.

 

The CDC immunologist is a woman named Carol Wilson, who he quickly learns is Matty’s  _ very different _ twin sister. Half of her hair is bright pink and she keeps winking at him and making not-so-veiled innuendos about getting him alone. It’s kind of creepy, like being hit on by Matty, only not. Mac keeps silently laughing at him from behind her.

 

Like Mac’s mother years ago, he spends hours answering questions about  _ everything _ . Carol also informs him that the CDC has people at his apartment taking samples. They’re also at Mac’s place since he spends so much time there, including shortly before being infected, and they’re taking samples here at Phoenix for the same reason, much to Matty’s annoyance and Carol’s amusement.

 

She confirms Mac’s assumption as to why the infection hurt so badly. The virus reacted to the tetrodotoxin like it did the cut on his wrist when it was healed, only the poison was inside his entire body.

 

She also warns him not to try lifting ‘crazy’ weights yet. It’ll take the infection a month or so to fully permeate his system. Apparently, the virus focuses on critical corrections first. Like being poisoned, then cancers and other major infections, illnesses or injuries.  _ Then _ it moves on to overall system improvements, slowly making adjustments. Already, Jack’s blood pressure has improved and his back wasn’t as stiff when he woke up as it usually is in the morning.

 

The official mission report will state that the darts that hit Jack were covered in a sedative, not a deadly neurotoxin, Nigel lied; Mac was taken for reasons known only to Nigel that they will probably never figure out now that he’s dead; no mention will be made of Nigel taking Mac’s blood, and Nigel’s death was caused by Jack’s bullet nicking an artery.

 

Mac finding out why Nigel had taken him had sucked:

 

“Why didn’t he just tell me? I would have helped him, given him the blood samples willingly. He didn’t have to do any of this! All he had to do was ask.”

 

“He probably figured he couldn’t take the chance of you refusing, hoss,” responds Jack. “He was desperate.”

 

“And now I’ve killed him. His daughter is going to die never knowing why he isn’t there to hold her hand in her final moments. And his wife will have lost both of them.” He buries his face in his hands. “What have I done, Jack?”

 

“Hey, hey, look at me.” Mac slowly looks up. “That is  _ not _ your fault. I heard what Dr. Lewis said to you. The fact that you’d lost so much blood that you passed out was serious bad news, man. It made you dangerously anemic in every sense. You were starving, for lack of another word. Even those that have learned not to lose themselves when drinking from others would’ve failed under those circumstances.”

 

“I didn’t have to drink from him at all.”

 

“I’d be dead now if you hadn’t. Doc confirmed that, too. You only had minutes to attempt the infection and you were right that you wouldn’t have had enough blood to do that without taking Nigel’s.”

 

“That doesn’t make it right.”

 

Jack’s sighs heavily. “Taking a life is the most lousy part of this job, and I  _ really _ hate when it has to be you that does it instead of me. Nothing ever makes killing another person feel completely right, but it can make it understandable and justifiable. You did what you had to do in order to protect us both against a man that was killing me and threatening you.”

 

Mac nods almost imperceptibly. Jack puts a finger under Mac’s chin and lifts his head to look at him, raising his eyebrows as he does. Mac nods a little more forcefully. “I know you’re right, Jack. I just…”

 

“I know, kid. I know.”

 

\---------------------------------------------------

 

Finally released, they head to a hotel since it’ll be several days before the CDC is done tearing their places apart. The adjoining rooms are simple, but spacious. They sit at the table in one of them, sipping the beer they picked up on the way, looking out the sliding glass doors of the balcony. Mac has been extremely quiet.

 

“So, what now, hoss?” Jack says.

 

“Now we wait for the CDC to finish their investigation and we go home. Life continues like normal. Though you’ll have to go to medical once a week for blood...for the rest of your life.” He won’t even look at him.

 

“Okay,” Jack puts down his beer and slides his chair around so he’s sitting right next to Mac, facing him. “ _ Now _ what’s going on in that head of yours? Hmm?”

 

Mac sighs, “I’ve condemned you to a life that’s so... _ hard _ .”

 

“The alternative was no life  _ at all _ . I would’ve died. You gave me a life, Mac. Easy or hard, I get to live it. And don’t forget, I  _ asked _ for this. Begged for it, practically demanded it. It ain’t your fault, man. It was Nigel’s. You get that,  _ really _ get that, right?”

 

“Yes, I get that. And I’m  _ really _ glad you’re still here but it doesn’t change the fact that I was forced to be a part of it. Your life will never be the same again, and there’s so much  _ pain _ coming.”

 

“I’ll get through it, and you’ll be there to help me every step of the way. Just like I’ll be there to help you. It’s what we do, brother.”

 

Mac finally smiles. “Yeah...yeah, it is.” He takes a deep breath. “We’ll be okay.”

 

“Damn right we will.” He picks up his beer, “Cheers.”

 

Clanking the bottles together, they each take a sip, sit back and gaze out the window over the city, imagining all that’s still to come.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Author's Note:**

> The next few chapters are longer, just finishing up editing. More soon! Kudos and comments greatly appreciated!! Please, please let me know what you think!


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